8
April
2009
April
2009
Fingerprints
After you attended Mass at San Lorenzo,
and while you leaned forward,
your eyes watching Florence’s Fiume Arno
flow quietly through the steam rising
from the cappuccino cupped
in your hands, I floated through
space
our Pennsylvania home today, traveling from
the kitchen
to the foyer
then up to our bedroom,
seeing you here.
space
If squad cars lurched into our driveway,
and home were the crime scene,
you, not me, would be the one convicted.
Your fingerprints are everywhere,
these rooms, on me,
and on our anticipated future.
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